Echoes and Dust
by SkyandIris
Summary: By the time Dom climbs out of his car, Letty is already leaning against hers, a single eyebrow raised at him. "You got me. But you dented my door, fucker."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Like most of my fics, this happened during the middle of a lecture and kind of manifested into this weird multi-parter that will be NOTHING like the actual movie but is stuck in my head nonetheless. Have it anyways.**

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By the time Dom climbs out of his car, Letty is already leaning against hers, a dark grey Jensen Interceptor. A single eyebrow raised at him. "You got me. But you dented my car, fucker."

He raises an eyebrow right back at her, trying not to gawk as he cautiously walks towards her and takes her all in, for real this time. No frozen moments of shock, no bullets sent flying towards him. He realizes that her hair is longer than when he'd last seen her, the bangs she'd impulsively cut in the bathroom one day had completely grown out. The simple dark tank she wore made her bronzed skin practically glow in the warm night, and her tan cargo pants were tucked sloppily into a pair of muddy combat boots. Her stance screamed of defensiveness, like a cat ready to spring at the slightest provocation. He returns his eyes to study her face, smirking slightly at her. "You weren't hiding very hard."

"Not anymore."

Something in her voice is tinged with desperation, and no matter how hard she tries to hide it from him, he hears it clear as day. She's fucking terrified, but too proud, too brave to show it. Even to him. So he changes the subject, making a note to get it out of her later. _If there was a later. No_, he decided. _There most definitely would be_. He wouldn't let her go again. "What the hell happened to you, Letty? I thought you were _dead_."

"I _was _dead." She bit out. "Every minute of every day. And not just after that _cabrón _tried barbecuing me."

Her words held no pretense. He _knew_ she was referring to the Dominican Republic, to her waking up alone next to a cold, empty space of bed. To him breaking the one promise that had meant the most to her.

"I did it to _protect_ you."

She barks out a laugh, wipes her hands on her pants and stands up to her full height. Her classic fight mode. Letty's harsh voice drags him from the memories, her snarl all-too-familiar. "Bullshit, Dom. It was all about _you_. You didn't want to deal with the guilt and you didn't want me on your conscious like I was some fucking responsibility or some shit. But it wasn't your choice to make, it was _mine_, and you took that away from me."

He doesn't know what to say to her. They were infamous back in LA - god, just the thought of LA hurts just a little bit - for fights. Breakables tucked away and spat for the walls and doors bound to be damaged by a particularly nasty one. Their rows were almost legendary, and when they were teenagers, small crowds used to gather as stealthily as they could just to watch Letty bust his balls. After they'd officially been together, Mia had been dead-set on crowd control, mostly because she didn't like the idea of half their neighborhood watching her brother and her best friend practically dry hump each other now, he is fairly certain nothing he says can make this better. He needs to let her be pissed, ride it out, and hope that when she comes out the other side she'd be his.

"I'm sorry." He knows it won't help, but he says it anyways.

"Me too." It's a sad, deep sigh she releases. She shuts down at his attempts at eye contact, leans back against her car a little more.

"You didn't answer me." He says gruffly, "How the hell'd you get mixed up with this shit?"

She tries to laugh it off. "Had to do somethin' with all my free time as a ghost, right?"

"Letty." Scolds her now, dips his head down to be a little bit more eye level with her. He used to do it when he was acting like a condescending dick, a reflex just like Letty's was her middle finger or a well-executed eye roll. And it pisses her off.

"The fuck you want me to say, Dom? I made my choices and _I've_ stuck my them."

He refuses to budge, ignores her dig at him. "But _this_? This shit ain't you."

She shakes her head, kicks up some dirt and pebble with her boots. "You don't know me anymore. A lot has changed."

"Bullshit." He challenges her. "You turn the water off when you shower because when you lived in the Dominican Republic as a kid, the water was so cold it made your head hurt. Your favorite beer is Presidente, but you'd drink us out of Corona anyways. You hate berry flavored _anything_. You're terrified of ladybugs. Can eat two _huge_ animal style burgers in one sitting and still have room for dessert, which you _have _to have after every meal. You sleep on your stomach and _claim_ to sleep on the left side even though usually you take the middle. And you still miss your mom every day." He makes sure her eyes are on his as he opens his hand, the chain attached to his finger falling down and clanging. Dog tags.

Her eyes widen as her hand slowly reaches out for them. "Where did you-"

Eyes stay trained on hers and his voice goes as soft as he can make it with the adrenaline still pumping through his body. "They were in the car. It was how Mia identified your body."

"Not my body." She says it reflexively, almost like a mantra, as if she'd told herself for weeks that the coffin and headstone she'd seen pictures of weren't _hers_, that she was alive and breathing and not in the same cemetery that Anthony Toretto was buried in.

"Obviously." He tries not to snark, but he says it anyways, and she lets it go in favor of reaching out for the tags. She closes her fingers around the ball chain, moving to take it away, but his hand clamps down over hers.

"Dom." She says haltingly, looking down at their joined hands as he runs his thumb along her knuckles, strokes her smallest finger gently.

"Come back with me."

She looks down, brushes her thumb over the embossed name on the tags. _Ortiz, M C_. "Dominic, how many ways to I have to say _no_ before it gets through your big bald head?"

"What are you so goddamn afraid of?" He fires right back at her. "We can protect you."

"Dom, _no_." She bites out forcefully, yanking her hand back and the chain with it. Dom winces as it - and her hand - is ripped from his tight grasp. "You need to stay the hell away from all of this. This is _my _turn."

He's glaring at her now, every stubborn inch of her as she tries to stare him down and talk him in circles. "You're outta your goddamn mind if you think I'm letting you go again."

"You're not _letting _me do anything. _I'm_ leaving this time."

"The hell you are. I don't need protecting." He shouts, his hand coming to the back of his neck as he appreciates the irony only a second too late. And by the incredulous look on her face, she didn't miss it either.

"Neither did I." She shoots back, her hand twitches, each finger stretches and curls and for a second he's not sure if she wants to punch him in the jaw or shoot him again. She obviously restrains herself and shoves her free hand back into her pocket instead. "And I wouldn't _be_ in this mess if you'd have just fucking _listened_ to me instead of acting like a fucking meatheaded gorilla. Ride or die, remember?" She says the last words mockingly, throws them back at him like they were the punchline to the joke that had become their lives.

"Letty, this has nothing to do with-"

"It has everything to do with it!" Letty's voice raises, it echoes in the night she drops back down to a low rasp and shakes her head. "You don't understand."

"_Make _me." He opens his arms out to either side. "I'm right here, baby."

He thinks she almost smiles at the endearment, but her face quickly drops and she turns indecisive. A few more glances at him from under her eyelashes and she sighs, dropping her head back to stare up at the stars above. "Owen worked for _Braga_, Dom. He was there the whole time."

"What?"

"He was _there_. At the races, at the club. I don't know how he tracked us down that day, but after I was blown from the car and Fenix thought I was dead," Her voice breaks off and she takes a ragged breath, still unable to completely remember the crash, but remembering the terror as she felt herself flipping through the air, the metal on the pavement, all intermingled with memories of another burning car and Dom's screams in her ear.

He's only a breath away from her now, thinks about touching her for a moment before deciding against it. He lowers his voice to a low murmur, lets her make the last move and lean lightly into him. "What _happened_, Letty?"

She turns her head on his chest, stares out beyond the bridge, beyond the city that was just another name in a long list of places that would never feel like home. "I woke up in his car. Somewhere in Mexico, a hospital that didn't ask questions about bulletholes and broken bones. And as soon as I was able, we were on a flight to London. I was so out of it that I didn't know what was happening." She sighs then, closes her eyes before forcing them open again to face the reality of her life beyond his arms. "And the next thing I knew, I was _dead_. To everyone that mattered. And he told me if I ever went back I'd be dead for real. And everyone I cared about…he showed me pictures. Of you, Mia, my abuela, even the goddamn _buster_. Targets over your faces. I didn't know what else to do."

"I killed Fenix." He doesn't know why he feels the need to tell her, blurt out what he'd done in her name so that maybe it would give her some piece of mind, knowledge that they weren't being hunted down like animals. That they _were_ the hunters in this game. She pulls away from him then, takes a step back to look him dead in the eye.

She shakes her head slowly. "It's not just Fenix. Or Braga. Or whoever you guys have pissed off along the way. It's _bigger_ than that, Dom, don't you get it?"

"Baby, just come with me." He begs now, and he doesn't even care. Something in her eyes scares him, makes him want nothing more than to throw her in the car behind him and drive her to safety, get her on the next flight to somewhere far away from where they were.

"You don't get it, Dom! I _can't_."

"What's he got over your head, huh? Why are you so scared?"

"I'm not scared, you _fucker_." She nearly screams at him, her face flushed with anger. "If I leave, you're _dead_. Mia's dead. Brian. Their baby. _Everyone_."

"Letty," he says softly, putting his arms out to attempt to calm her. It doesn't work, and she takes a few more steps back, furthering their distance even more. "We're taking them down. Don't worry about us."

"_No one _can take them down. Not even-," She gasps on what he can only define as a sob, composing herself quickly before continuing. "Not even you, you _cocky _bastard."

He half-smiles then, letting some of that old arrogance take over, hoping as a last resort that it would bring her back to him. "Not just me, I got the _best _team in the world behind me."

The dog tags in her hand made an indent, and she rubs at it absently as she slides it into her pocket. He notices then she has another chain around her neck, disappearing underneath the fabric of her wifebeater

She raises her head to stare him down, her eyes hard, almost begging him to understand. "Yeah, they ruthless killers? They glance twice at a person before putting a bullet straight through their skull? A perfect stranger who'd never done shit to them but glance their way?" Her voice is low, a hoarse rasp he'd fell in love with so many years ago. The tiny girl with the big mouth and the scratchy little voice. God, how he wished he could go back and hold on and never let go. He's brought back to the present, however, as she is spurred on by his silence. "Because that's what we are. We get just once glace at that team of yours, and we use the second to fire."

He shakes his head firmly. "But it's not _you_."

"I _shot _you, didn't I?"

"No, don't pull that shit, Letty. I knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't want me there so you _made _me leave and-,"

The Imperial Death March stops him mid-sentence, Letty rolls her eyes as she yanks her phone from her pocket and swipes across the screen. "Yeah?" Pause. "No, she ain't with me. You know her, you check all the toilets in the club?" Another pause, and she bit her lip before nodding to herself. "Okay, on my way."

He moves to speak but she silences him with her hand, pressing another button and putting the phone back up to her ear. Whoever answers is loud enough he can hear them, and Letty winces before she quickly turns down the volume.

"Vegh." She waits for a response, rolls her eyes as whatever Vegh tells her clearly irritates her. "No, I don't give a shit who you're fucking, get your ass to the garage _now_."

"Letty," he's begging her now, ignoring her heated look as she quickly ends the call. "If you're caught with them, I can't promise you won't get hurt."

She snorts, jams the phone back into her pocket and rolls her eyes. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't just up and _leave_."

"Why? What is so important?"

Letty freezes for a moment before shaking her head, taking a few steps and raising her arm towards the door handle.

"No," Dom lunges for her arm and barely catches her, pulls her reluctant form back to him. "What aren't you telling me?"

Struggling, she digs her nails into his hand, feels the tears she'd pushed down earlier resurface as he refuses to budge. "Dom, _let me go_."

"No." He damn near growls, crowding her against her car and putting his free hand on her cheek, tilting her head back to look at him.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, more tears rolling as she brings her hands to his chest, digs the heels in. "God _damn _it, Dom!" She gasps out, glaring at him through her watery eyes as she presses against him with all of her strength. "I was fucking _pregnant,_ okay?"

His arm drops in shock and she seizes the opportunity to back away. Before he can even move to catch her again, she's already inside the Interceptor and revving the engine, disappearing into the night and leaving the stunned man in her wake.

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yo. Y'all are fabulous. I know there's a lot of potential plot fics floating around out there and that anyone even cares about mine reassures me that my lack of note-taking (in favor of story-plotting) in class isn't a total loss. Anyways...**

**A/N 2.0: Accidentally deleted this chapter while trying to fix a typo. Of fucking course. Sorry. Update will either be later tonight or tomorrow at the latest, though.**

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Before Letty's taillights are even completely lost in the darkness, another set of lights are shining in Dom's eyes. A sleek BMW comes to a stop only a few yards from where the Interceptor had been parked, and a man Dom instantly recognizes steps out from behind the wheel.

Immediately, a chill runs down his spine.

Something that couldn't be conveyed by images was the _presence _this man had. He was smaller than himself in stature, but there was a threatening, deadly confidence that sent fear tingling down his back. And Dominic Toretto prided himself in never being one to scare easily.

The man approaches slowly, calculating. A smile, a carefully construed mix of friendly and dangerous, on his lips as he casually introduces himself. "Owen Shaw. We've never met, but-"

He can't keep the contempt from his voice as he interrupts Shaw. "I know _exactly_ who you are."

The smile widens as he pulls an envelope from his back pocket, hands it to Dom without taking his eyes from his face. "Ah, that makes this easy then, Mr. Toretto."

His fingers stumble over opening it, get stuck in the flap in his haste. He feels the sharp sting of a paper cut, smudges blood on the manila and and only refrains from cursing as he recognizes the smoothness of photo paper. He pulls the first 4x6 out and his breath catches. _Letty_. In her team's garage, he can only assume, working on the car he'd seen only moments before. Clad in coveralls unsnapped down to her waist, a black sports bra visible through the opening. And a tiny girl on her hip, most of her face obscured as she looked away from the camera, up at Letty's face grinning face.

But he can see the corner of a smile, the same wicked little twist he remembers peeking around the garage as he and his father worked on the Charger so many years ago. Dark, curly hair and skin the warm color of Letty's. Her mother's. His-

His heart stops just a little bit, and he looks up to see a menacing smirk on Shaw's face. He wonders how much this stranger knows about him, how much he's heard. And he can't stop himself from voicing it aloud for the first time.

"My daughter-"

"I suppose you could say that." Shaw nods calmly. "Sweet kid. Loves her Hot Wheels and Dora. Wants to be a dragon when she grows up." Dom is hardly able to tear his gaze from the pictures to meet Shaw's cold gaze. "So you see, she was right, you know. You must stay away."

He's seething now. This photographic evidence, this _proof_ that there's a child out there, a child he and Letty created _together_, a child that has been existing without his knowledge and in the company of this scum before him, it all builds up before he can stop what's happening. He punches the nearest thing he can reach, shatters the back window of his car. "There's no way in _hell_-"

"What you're forgetting, Mr. Toretto, is that I can reach out and break you whenever I want." The threat clear in his voice, a smirk still playing on his lips. He _knows_ he has the upper hand. Dom's weak spot had been exposed. This man, the man that so many were hunting, now held immeasurable power over him. Because Shaw _knew_ Dom regarded family above all else, knew he would do anything to keep his family safe. "This code you live by makes you _predictable_. And in our line of work, predictable means _vulnerable_"

Dom ignores the blood running down his hand, refuses to break away from his enemy's gaze as he growls lowly. "If you _hurt_-"

"Hurt?" Shaw chuckles, gives him an incredulous look. "Forget not, Mr. Toretto, that _I_ was the one who carried her out of that ditch. If I wanted harm to come to her, I would have left her there for _Braga_ to find. No, _you _are the one who left her behind. Her and your _child_. Besides," He smirks. "She has her uses."

Dom stays silent despite Shaw's goading, seeing the very real danger in his eyes. He tilts his head, nods at Dom and gives him an almost-friendly wink. "Well, I suppose I shall see you soon, then. Good luck." He spins around casually, unafraid of turning his back exposed to a man that so obviously wanted to rip him to shreds. Dom feels his anger manifest into something more. Hatred.

And he does the only thing he can think of. Gets back in his car and sits back in his seat as he pulls out his phone, still ignoring the throbbing of his hand as his sister mumbles into her phone. "Mia."

"Hey, big brother. What's up? Did something happen?" She sounds half asleep, and he almost feels bad for waking her. Almost. He knew she resented being left behind with her and Brian's son, wanted to be neck-deep in the action with the rest of them, but it just wasn't safe. He'd also promised to update her if anything big happened, and well, he's pretty sure this qualifies as _big_.

"No, no. We're all fine." He reassures her, hears her relieved sigh almost instantaneously.

"Did you find her?" He pauses, wondering what he should say, but his silence confirms it for her. He hadn't called after his first sighting of Letty, he figured that informing her that he'd indeed seen his presumed dead lover and that she had immediately put a bullet in his shoulder wouldn't have exactly been _comforting_ news. And between getting patched up and tracking her down once more, Mia, safe at home, hadn't been high on his list of priorities. He hears a muffled noise through the slight static, a stifled sob. She must pull herself together quickly, though, because her voice hardly wavers as she speaks again. "I didn't want to believe until-until you were _sure_."

"I saw her, Mi. Letty's alive." The words feel almost foreign on his tongue, the concept so foreign in his brain he himself doesn't quite believe that he'd actually been in her presence only an hour earlier.

He can hear her sit up in bed, can hear the hitch in her voice. The only person who could possibly understand how _monumental_ this was to him, who had been there from the very beginning of _Dom and Letty_ and all the way to their presumed end. "God, was…is she _okay_?"

He closes his eyes, trying once again to _not_ imagine what could have happened to make the most fearless woman he'd ever known so thoroughly terrified. "Physically, yeah. She looked fine."

"Dom, what _aren't_ you telling me." Of course Mia could tell when he was skirting around an issue, felt no shame at trying to bully it out of him. While Letty had always possessed the knack for understanding him and what he needed at any given time, his shared genetic code with Mia made them uniquely able to force each other into spilling their guts about any given subject. It was no less annoying now than when they were kids, and he debates for a long moment. Knows that telling her would probably send her looking for a direct flight to London, but knows he'd also never get away with omitting the truth with her. Especially after Brian found out. So he buckles down, rolls the words over in his head a few more times before saying them outright. "I have a daughter."

Mia sucks in a long breath, holds it like she is waiting for the punchline. She doesn't get one. "You're serious."

"Yeah." He remembers her face as she said the words, the relief he _swore_ he saw in her eyes as she told him. Tries not to replay every single moment in his brain, tries not to think about how warm and _alive_ she felt.

"She had-_Jesus_, Dom." Her voice fades before raising and getting stronger. "You _can't _beat yourself up over what could've-Dom, just focus on bringing them _home_, okay? I'm coming out there."

"No, Mia. _No_."

He can practically hear her eyes narrow and her jaw set. "Dominic, if you think I'm gonna sit here watching cartoons and _wait_ for you to bring my sister and niece back to me on a silver platter, you must _really _underestimate my Toretto genes."

Rubbing his forehead, he lets out a sigh. He knows she'll show up with or without his permission, and it was only a matter of time before she was barging through the doors and demanding to be included. "Damn it, Mia, just _wait_, okay? Let me talk to Brian."

She grudgingly agrees, and is cut off by her son's hungry cries. Makes him promise to call her back soon and hangs up to tend to the baby, and a whole new pain blossoms in Dom's chest. If Letty had been pregnant the last time they'd seen each other, that would make their child, their _daughter_, over two years old. He'd missed Letty's changing body, the birth of their child, all of those landmark _firsts_ that took place in a child's first years of life. Just a few months before Mia had called him, babbling effusively about how her genius baby had rolled over for the first time. He didn't get _any_ of that. Hell, he didn't even know his own kid's _name_. He punches the dashboard, kicks open the door and stands, stalks around his car with increasing anger.

When Hobbs had first suggested that Letty could be alive, it was almost too much for him to hope for. Finding out that she _was_ alive was just about enough to bring him to his proverbial knees.

But now? Now he was desperate.

It's not until the early hours of the morning when he finally arrives back at the warehouse they had set up shop in. Brian is the only one awake, pouring through one of the files Hobbs had left out, and greets him with a beer.

"What the hell happened to your hand?"

Dom flexes his fingers, winces at his aching knuckles and the twinging of his shoulder. He shrugs at his brother-in-law and sinks down into the chair opposite him, ignoring the curious look Brian is giving him.

"Get any answers?"

He tosses the envelope at him, his face set into a grim expression. "I'm getting her back." He says lowly, "Both of them."

Brian's opened the envelope by then, the shock clearly on his face as he takes in the contents. A dozen or so photos in all, more than likely taken while Letty was completely unaware. She'd always loathed pictures, and these looked more like surveillance shots than warm family moments that included the photographer. Only the one image included their child, and in most Letty looked downright pissed or exhausted, always in the company of several other faces they both recognize from the photos Hobbs had laid on on the table in front of them.

Dom has to ask, needs to know the truth from him. He'd posed the same question not two weeks before, if he'd known that there was a very real possibility Fenix _hadn't_ murdered Letty, and he was hoping for a similar answer. "Did you know?"

Brian's head snaps up, his brow furrows deeply with regret. "_Hell_, Dom. If I'd known, I'd never have even _considered _putting her out there like that."

He nods in return, seeing the truth in his eyes. He knew the man across from him had felt almost as much to blame for Letty's supposed death as he himself had, even if he hadn't let it show at first. Months earlier, while Mia had been on bed rest, Brian had told him of how he'd stumbled - literally - into Letty one night and hadn't been able to run quite fast enough for his balls to escape unscathed. How she'd tracked him down a week later and practically _ordered_ him to come up with a way to fix the mess he'd inadvertently created. He'd seen an opportunity and he'd used it, used Letty even, and he'd regretted it more than any other decision he'd made as a fed. But she was nothing if not stubbornly determined and Dom knew it. Knew if Brian hadn't helped her, she'd just have gone to even _more_ drastic measures. And she and Brian had shared a few beers, she'd kicked his ass at every racing game there was, had developed some sort of weird mutual respect before it had all went straight to hell, and Dom couldn't help but feel grateful that at least Brian had _cared_ about her life. He couldn't say the same for the rest of feds involved, knew that to them, Letty had just been another pawn, another means to an end.

He couldn't help but wonder how much they knew. That the body they'd sent to the morgue wasn't the same body that went into the desert for them that night, that Leticia Ortiz was alive and well in godforsaken _England_. Traipsing around Europe pulling jobs with guys that made Braga and his crew look like choirboys.

Brian clears his throat, sets the envelope of pictures onto the table in between them before speaking again. "How are you doing, man?"

He snorts, pressing his head into his hands. Her face flashes through his mind once more, the familiar lines of her that he'd thought he'd forgotten until he'd seen them again. "How the fuck you _think _I'm doing?"

"Stupid question, right." Brian has the good sense to look slightly embarrassed, and even slightly more bitterly determined. "We'll get them out of there safely, Dom."

He shoots Brian - and his unwavering confidence - a tight smile as he twists the cap off the beer, takes a long drag from the bottle. He turns serious again after he swallows, looking down at his shaking hands. "They've been out there this _whole_ time and I didn't even-"

Brian smiles without humor, shaking his head at him. "Come on, man. You turn psychic or something without us knowing? There's no way you, or _any_ of us, could have known."

He looks away, takes another long drink and tries not to wonder what they're doing at that very moment.

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Why study notecards when I can do this?**

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Letty's still hunched over her car, her body sore and head aching, when she hears it. A sound she's become finely attuned to over the last few years, a smile spreading across her face as the soft footsteps got closer. There was a pause, a hop, then a giggle and she could just picture her daughter's grin as she made a game of dodging whatever obstacles she encountered crossing the garage.

She waits patiently as the little girl slowly rounds the corner of the Interceptor, one hand trailing along the body while the other clutched her favorite toy, a small plastic model nearly identical to the car Letty learnt to drive in.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed, mami?" She tries hard to sound cross, she really does, because she knows the nanny put her to bed no less than two hours earlier, but she remembers the nights she tiptoed away from home to spend time into the Toretto's garage, watching Tony lovingly do what he did best. It feels like lifetimes ago, but she treasures those days, those distant memories. And if she's honest with herself, she hopes her daughter will only remember times like these when she grows up, and none of the chaos swirling around them.

Her daughter's round face, sticky with the remnants of what she recognizes as the brown rice syrup from those messy granola bars Vegh loves, stares at her with wide, stubborn eyes. "No cansada."

Letty rolls her eyes. No, she supposed her two year old was _never_ tired. Her calm, doe-eyed newborn had transformed into a tiny hellion with NOS in her diaper as soon as she'd figured out the basics of independent mobility. She should have known, she'd told herself over and over, that _any_ child with the combined DNA of herself _and_ Dominic Toretto would be nothing short of extremely lovable cosmic payback.

"C'mere, mija." She beckons, and the toddler moves as fast as her little legs can carry her across the several feet of space that still separate them. She bumps into her mother's legs and Letty jumps to steady her, settling into a crouch as she keeps one arm securely around her.

"¿Mira esto?" Letty holds a tool out for her to see, waiting for the brush of hair on her neck as her daughter's head bobs. "What's this called?" A tiny brow furrows and her head tilts, but she steadily answers correctly, grinning triumphantly when she gets it right. She quizzes her for several more moments, beaming in pride as she names almost every single one with little hesitation, follows her every movement with curious brown eyes. A cursory glance at her phone confirms that it's way past the toddler's bedtime, no matter how awake she seemed to be.

She stands slowly, feeling the crack in her spine as she stretched her body. Her daughter raises her arms and Letty hefts her to her hip, ignoring her protesting limbs and lets out a yawn before murmuring lowly. "You may not be tired, mami, but _your_ mami most certainly is."

She leans against her car, explains a little bit more about the tinkering she was doing under the hood, before her daughter starts rubbing her ears, a telltale sign that she was valiantly fighting sleep. She moves rhythmically then, to whatever tune the crackly radio was playing behind her, lowering her voice to a soothing tone as she prays sleep finds them both soon. It's not long before the tiny forehead is heavy against her collarbone, the small body sagging heavily in her arms as exhaustion claims her. She shifts her slightly in order to grab the jacket she'd discarded hours earlier, carefully maneuvers out of the garage and into the cool London air.

It's a short walk from the garage to the small cottage she'd called home for the last few years, but with her physical weariness and the thoughts of everything that had changed in the last few days weighed her down heavily.

God-fucking-damn _Dom _was here. In _her_ city.

Well, that wasn't true. Echo Park would always be _home_, even if she never returned again. But for a long time, Letty had considered London to be her safe haven. She appreciated the anonymity the city provided for her, the comfort of rarely being worth a second glance to most people she passed on the street. She'd spent so much time on the run to where looking over her shoulder felt like second nature, knowing when she was being watched a sixth sense, so when she was finally someplace where neither were top priorities was like breathing air after nearly drowning.

And she _had_ been. Drowning. Lost.

She'd functioned without Dom before, but never with the finality that a cold, vacant side of the bed in another country felt like. And when she could just _feel_ that this time, she wouldn't be able to find him and he wouldn't come back for her. Not if nothing changed. And change had happened, in almost every way possible.

She sighs as she slowly opens her creaky front door, makes her way through the dark and gently sets the sleeping girl on the bed, slipping off her shoes and tucking her in before brushing a kiss to her warm forehead. She stirs slightly, and Letty gently rubs the bridge of her nose with her thumb until she settles back down, before quietly backing away. She strips off the rest of her clothes on the way to the bathroom, cranks the water on as high as it'll go. It's not as hot as she'd like but she makes do, stepping under the spray and watching the water around her feet turn slightly murky.

She tries to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach, the foreboding ache that tells her what she's already thought for days, even before Dom and his _new_ crew showed up on the scene. Hellbent on whatever halfassed rescue mission they and their GI Joe wannabes concocted.

The job's going to be a disaster.

Letty's got a knack for sensing these things, but she'd keep her mouth shut as long as it meant keeping her daughter safe. And, by extension _herself_ safe, so that someone would actually be there to raise aforementioned daughter.

When she was a kid, she always used to know when a storm was brewing between her mother and father, and knew the difference between it being safe to just hold out in her bedroom and when it was time to hightail it over to the Toretto's. When she got older, after her mother enlisted and her father tried to drink himself to death every night, she knew when it was possible to hide the damage and when she was better off hiding away from the prying eyes of her friends.

She'd had little patience for the parade of women her father kept company with. Could smell booze and cheap perfume from an impressive distance. Was so _relieved _that Tony Toretto didn't ask many questions when she'd sneak in so late she'd just curl up on the couch and wait for Mia to wake up and fill her silence with mindless chatter.

She could sense when her mother was about to call, from whatever country she'd been holed up in, could imagine her wiser-than-thou self with her glasses pushed up and her wild curls pulled back, tanned from the desert and the new challenges she faced head-on and reveling in the distance the service put between herself and her husband.

The day her mother was killed, she'd felt this inexplicable pain in her stomach, had laid in Mia's bed all day until the Military Chaplain and CNO knocked on the front door. Just like she knew, the day her father finally _did _drink himself to death, that she wanted to go home and sit with him as he laid prone on the couch, watched the rise and fall of his chest until they both just _ceased_.

And when they'd driven off from Race Wars and into the cool desert night, turning her last glimpse of Jesse over and over in her mind, she _knew _it wasn't right. Had begged with her eyes for Dom to understand, but she'd trusted his judgment, let his words and promises of beaches pacify her, twisted her key in the ignition and told herself it was just the heat that was making her queasy.

Not trusting herself. That's where she'd gone wrong.

She'd made a vow, somewhere between clutching her ribs in a dingy hotel across the border and chasing Dom's ass through what felt like every Spanish-speaking country in the hemisphere, to always trust herself over anything - and anyone - else.

So when Dom had snuck away that night in the Dominican Republic, she half-expected it. Had him make love to her until he practically fucked her to sleep but even then, as soon as he'd shifted next to her, she'd been alert to his every move. Felt him staring at her back as he presumed her asleep, tried to beg him silently not to go. Wanted him to stay _without_ having to catch him in the act of bailing on her. Somehow managed to keep her eyes sealed shut until he'd closed the door behind him, but the tears had escaped anyways, dropping to the white pillowcase without much ceremony.

His car hadn't even pulled away and she was retching in the bathroom, but she'd chalked it up to the knowledge that he didn't believe that she could take care of herself with him, that he thought of her like a responsibility to be shirked at the first sign of trouble on the horizon.

Even after she'd returned to the states, she felt the need to throw up every time his name crossed her mind.

She'd been desperate to make it stop, desperate to bring him home. Mia needed him just about as much as she herself did, and she'd made a promise to Dom years before to do best for his sister. And if that meant tracking down the buster and trying to make a deal, so be it. She'd do _anything_.

Of course, ignoring the tumultuous feeling in her stomach _again_ was probably not the best idea. Little flutters of trepidation, or so she'd thought.

And the next thing she knew, she was desperately reaching for her cell phone, pressing the only number she knew could _help _her as Fenix's taillights illumined the inside of her car. She'd heard Brian pick up, managed to spit out a few words - which words they were, however, she could never quite recall - before she was sailing through the air, flipping and being tossed around until she was hanging upside down, scrabbling desperately for the release on her seatbelt. She wishes she could remember more than the look in Fenix's eyes as he approached her upturned car, but then, everything exploded.

Her next flash was a ditch, of feeling completely numb, of nothingness, and then a face swimming into her vision, illumined by the firelight she could only assume was from what _used _to be her car.

More flashes, the hum of the interior of another car, the beeping of machines and bleached smell of hospital, chatter all around her that faded into the sounds of engines preparing for flight, twisting and turning before finally dissolving into the sounds of London outside her window.

She turns the water off and wipes her eyes, reaching for a towel and dries off slowly. She crawls slowly into bed beside her daughter, the tiny body curled mostly in the middle of the bed, fishbow lips pressed to the mattress instead of the pillow only a few inches above her head. She immediately nuzzles into her side, tucks herself under her bicep. So much like her father, a subconscious cuddler and a bed hog to boot. She nearly scoffs, stifles it with her face in the pillow as her chest jumps. There was no denying that the kid was mostly _hers_ in looks, but those Toretto genes were as much a force to be reckoned with as her own. She'd hate it if it weren't so endearing.

Letty woke with the soft light coming in through her window, shifting against the weight of the small head tucked under her chin and damp spot on the front of her shirt. She could hear the rustling in the garage, knew it was only a matter of time before she too would be facing the reality of this day, but she vowed to hold onto this moment as long as it would last.

XxXxXxXxX


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Keeping in mind that I wrote the bulk of this before seeing F6, assume that things are _mostly_ going the same unless I state otherwise. And you'll know when that happens. It's probably a bit disjointed right now, but I promise it'll also probably all make sense in the end.**

XxXxXxX

He's only seen Letty twice since arriving in London and yet it's more hope than he's felt in the last three years.

More, if he's being honest with himself. Running _wasn't_ freedom, and here he is, with the opportunity to be free looming on the horizon. The next 24 hours would determine his fate, and there wasn't much he could right now to direct the outcome.

And somewhere, someplace in this very city, the one thing that made his life worth living was out there. With their child.

So if he was a _little i_mpatient to see her again, it was understandable. But the pacing that he was doing? Was damn near enough to drive everyone crazy.

"Dude, chill. I'm sure once we're outta here she can rough you up some more and it'll all be one big happy psycho family." Roman tries. But a glare from Dom and a warning look from Brian silences even him, and he goes back to fooling around with whatever equipment Tej has stored up.

They're going over the plan for tomorrow. They know Shaw's team has a job planned. They know they won't have the element of surprise, at least where their presence is concerned. What they don't know, however, is what exactly Shaw's team has in store for them.

"I want her safe." He intones lowly. Hobbs ignores him for a second, before sparing a glace up at him.

"Can't promise that, Toretto. You know that."

He nearly growls then, gets in his face. "You'd better figure out _how_ to promise that, and fast, if you value your life."

Hobbs eyes him for a second, holds his gaze before nodding once. Riley glances over at him with mild surprise, but when she gets no response, goes back to looking at the papers spread in front of them.

Dom's restless, nervous, and standing around and talking is doing nothing to quell the urge to open every damn door in London until he finds Letty and their daughter.

Brian's nearly as anxious as him, and Dom's still a little bit surprised by the amount of guilt he seemed to feel. But he knew Letty better than any other person in the world, knew that no matter how much Brian may have offered, she wouldn't have done anything for him or the FBI that she hadn't already decided to do herself.

That doesn't mean he's still not pissed at him, for being so willing to _risk_ her like that. But it's something.

He also know that he's partially to blame. He's known that since that phone call from Mia, that cold feeling in his stomach as the ground dropped from under him.

Letty was right, as she usually was when she got one of her gut feelings. She'd told him time and time again they were safer together, _stronger_, but he hadn't listened. He'd put what _he_ thought was the right thing to do over anything else, had made decisions for her. The cardinal sin in Letty's code of conduct.

So much of her life had been out of control when she was a kid, and it was one think she'd always prided herself on. She had the tattoo to prove it, two lines curving along her hipbone in white gold ink.

_I am the Master of my Fate,_

_I am the Captain of my Soul_

And he was willing to take the blame for how things went down. Willing to fight with her about it, willing to back down when he _knew_ she was right.

What he _wasn't_ willing to do was lose them again.

This was his second chance. Well aware that it was a hell of a lot more than most people got, he wasn't taking any risks at screwing it all up. This was it.

There was no him without her.

They ride together. They die together.

That was their deal. He thought he'd broken it, once. Before Hobbs showed up with that innocuous manila folder.

He sighed. He could really use Mia right now, even though he hated to admit it. She'd always been one of their biggest supporters, all too keen to take Letty's side of an argument and freeze him out when she thought he wasn't being a good enough man, all too willing to dole out the hugs when things got rough.

But Mia was safe at home, safe with his nephew and with Elena there to guard them both.

And he could lie, say he felt no regret when it came to the Brazilian woman, but he did. After all, they'd both used each other, quite effectively at that. But he got a second chance with the one he truly loved. Something she'd never get.

Brian's voice startles him from his thoughts, and he trains his eyes across the room at the blonde.

"You gotta see this, Dom."

XxXxXxX

Surveillance video.

Two people he recognized from photos of Shaw's team. An Asian man who looked as cunning as they come, and a meathead looking guy built like a truck. Waving at the camera before pulling their weapons and opening fire.

Hobbs watches from the other side of the table, his mouth in a firm, angry line. "We leave at sunrise."

XxXxXxX

_"Remember, Leticia," He snarls lowly, "How easy it would be for me to destroy you. Keep that in mind today."_

_Letty feels the rage pulsate through her body, the exhaustion from the previous day coupled from the adrenaline she'd gained upon fading as she hears the very clear threat in his voice as his hand trails over her child's hair just as it had over her own the previous night._

_"Ven conmigo, mija." She says quietly, extending her hand. Her daughter hops from her chair and practically skips to her, slides her hand into hers._

_"We leave in 45." He calls out to her back, but she makes no sign that she heard him as she focuses on her daughter's small hand in hers._

XxXxXxX

The job _i_s a disaster, of course.

She idly wonders if it was really _destined_ to be that way or if it was her own pessimistic attitude that got them to that point, but none of it really matters.

Dom was there, of course. Him and his entire ragtag team of petty criminals who'd somehow made their way into the big leagues. _Major_ leagues, if anything Shaw's told her holds any weight.

A hundred million dollars? _Really?_

They'd nearly blown the entire operation, and she had to give them credit for that. She couldn't even count how many people had it out for Shaw these days, but Dom and his people are the only ones who have even gotten close. But they didn't have a tank on their side, and it quickly became obvious that they'd have to go _bigger_ if they really wanted to take down Shaw. But she could give it to them for trying, even if it left herself pretty battered up in the process.

With each inhale, she feels her ribs protest and ache against the pressure. With a bit of prodding, she figures only one is broken, the other two simple fractures, and would heal given a bit of time and rest.

Which, she isn't counting on getting much of in the coming days.

Her shoulder's also sore, her wrist twinges when she rotates it, and she's pretty sure the gash on her knee has bled straight through her pants, but she doesn't dare look. None if it really matters though, because her mind is on her daughter and Shaw's cold eyes as he carelessly killed anyone who happened to be in his path.

She was supposed to wait for Shaw to return, the entire team was, but as soon as they pull back to headquarters she slams the car door and heads immediately for the back door. She meets Vegh's eyes and she nods back, and the blonde turns on her heel and slips out a far door, unnoticed.

She herself wasn't so lucky.

"Where are you going?" Klaus stops her before she can reach for the handle it and she scowls at the big, burly man.

She scowls at him. "None of your fuckin' business."

He refuses to budge, however, and Letty suddenly feels naked without a loaded gun tucked into her pants.

"When you gotta go," She does a mockery of what her daughter has dubbed_ the loo dance_ as she darts past him, and the walk to her cottage seems to take forever, with each step a little bit more painful than the last. The sweat was finally cooling on her body and she shivers lightly, reminds herself to grab a jacket as she pushes open the door.

"Mami!" her daughter hops up from where she was sprawled on the floor to launch herself at her mother's legs, and Letty quietly dismisses the nanny with a tight smile. As soon as she's out the back door, she pulls a cartoon character backpack from the closet, already packet and ready. She secures the straps over her daughter's shoulders, carefully buckling the clip across her front.

She grabs a spare clip from the safe, reloads her gun, and curls her hand around the dog tags at her neck, sending up a silent prayer.

With everything she needs in front of her, she grabs her daughter's hand with a calm she doesn't feel as she walks back towards the warehouse.

Klaus is still at the door when she returns, and she rolls her eyes. "We've already been through this."

He eyes her and the little girl beside her without compassion. "Boss said not to let anyone go anywhere, it's too dangerous."

She makes sure her daughter's eyes are averted before brandishing her gun at him. "Thanks for the concern, but I can take care of myself."

XxXxXxX

The door creaks open, and before Dom even realizes what's happening, both Hobbs and Riley have their guns trained on the intruders.

He immediately recognizes Letty and nearly sags with relief. He'd seen how roughed up she was when all was said and done earlier, felt a breath leave him at the confirmation that she really _was_ alive and okay.

The second thing his eyes recognize is the small figure clutching at Letty's leg, sandwiched firmly between the two women. One small hand was clamped over both eyes, and the other curled around Letty's thigh, her face pressed into her mother's leg.

Her mother, who currently had a gun trained on two DSS agents without blinking.

"Put 'em down, it's okay."

Letty doesn't look at him, but he can tell she relaxes slightly as she hears his voice. He knew how dark it was outside, and the fluorescent lights had more than likely blinded her when she came in. And with the whole welcoming party they were currently having, she probably hadn't seen him in the far corner.

"I ain't puttin' _shit_ down, Toretto." Riley growls, looking over at Hobbs for support.

He gives none, takes his eyes off the woman in question and meets Dom's firm gaze. "Do we trust her?"

Before Dom can even speak, tell Hobbs that in no uncertain terms that they _fully_ trust her, that she was the most trustworthy of them all, a voice speaks up.

"Hey, fuck you." Brian tells Hobbs, moves slightly towards Letty. The woman next to her freezes him with her gaze, and she's clearly torn between keeping her gun pointed at the two agents or him.

Letty shakes her head decisively. "He's fine, Barbie."

"For what it's worth, I trust her more than _your_ federal ass." Roman pipes up from his place next to Tej, who doesn't hesitate to give him a look, but looks like he agrees for all intents and purposes.

After a few more tense moments, Hobbs lowers his gun, and motions for Riley to do the same. Letty and the blonde slowly lower theirs as well, tucking them into the backs of their paints.

Letty drops one arm then, strokes it over the head of the girl nearly climbing her leg. "Está bien, mija. They won't hurt us." She reaches down, slides her hands under her armpits and hefts her onto her hip. The little girl buries her head into her shoulder, locking her arms around her neck. Letty whispers a reassurance into her hair, shifting her weight to accommodate the backpack covering the bulk of the girl's back.

She meets their eyes then, glances around at the assortment of people around the room, both familiar and unfamiliar, and speaks. "So here's what it is. I'm Letty, this is Vegh, this is Francesca, and you're gonna want to hear what we've gotta say."

XxXxXxX


End file.
